21/9/2025, 2:33AM - Saturday. Roughly fifteen minutes before Fushi had been found.

Fushi walked cautiously through the desolate streets of Tokyo, the once-bustling city now a graveyard of shattered buildings and crumbling debris. His breath came in ragged bursts, a mix of fear and exhaustion. The adrenaline from the earlier confrontation still coursed through his veins, but now, in the quiet aftermath, his instincts were screaming at him.

Something was wrong.

The ruins were too still, too quiet, like the world itself was holding its breath. Every shadow seemed alive, twisting and shifting as if waiting for the right moment to strike. Fushi's eyes darted nervously, his body tense, poised to flee at the slightest hint of danger. He needed to find Mika and Souji—he needed to get back to safety.

But something kept him rooted in place.

A chill ran down his spine, and for a moment, Fushi thought he saw movement in the corner of his vision. He froze, heart pounding in his chest, as a tall, lean figure stepped out from the darkness.

The man's silhouette was barely visible in the dim light, but there was an unmistakable aura of menace about him. His movements were slow, deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. Fushi swallowed hard, feeling his muscles tighten with fear.

"Who…?" Fushi's voice faltered, barely a whisper, but the stranger didn't seem in any hurry to respond.

He stepped closer, and as the light caught his features, Fushi saw that the man wore a calm, almost bored expression. His eyes, however, were sharp, glinting with a cold, very cold, calculating intelligence. This man was dangerous. Fushi could feel it in the pit of his stomach.

"There's no need to be so tense, boy," the man said, his voice smooth, almost soothing. "I'm just a follower."

Fushi's mind raced. A follower? The term meant nothing to him, but the way this man said it made it sound like a title—something with purpose, something with power.

"A follower of what?" Fushi managed to ask, trying to keep his voice steady, but the man only smiled, a small, chilling smile that did nothing to ease Fushi's growing anxiety.

The man's eyes drifted over Fushi, assessing him, before speaking again. "You're traveling with Souji, aren't you?"

At the mention of Souji's name, Fushi's heart skipped a beat. His mind immediately flashed to his ally, or rather, friend? Fushi wasn't entirely sure what Souji was to him, but he at least cared enough to go check up on him. But how did this stranger know about Souji? The dread in Fushi's chest deepened, but he couldn't show weakness. He couldn't let this man see how terrified he was.

"I don't know him that well," Fushi said honestly, hoping it would make him less valuable to the stranger. "We just met recently."

The man's smile widened, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "That's fine," he said, his voice as cold as the night air. "You'll do just fine."

Fushi's stomach churned. He didn't need to know this man's name or his motives to understand one thing: he was in serious trouble. His legs trembled, but he forced himself to stand his ground. Running wouldn't help—this man was far too dangerous.

"What do you want?" Fushi asked, his voice barely a whisper.

The man reached into his coat and pulled out a small object. It was a circular disc, no bigger than the palm of Fushi's hand, with strange, intricate markings etched into its surface. He held it out to Fushi, who hesitated before taking it. The moment his fingers closed around the disc, an unnatural chill spread through his body, like ice sinking deep into his bones.

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"Hold onto this," the man said, his voice soft but commanding. "When Souji is asleep, activate it. It will create a beacon—one that only I can track. You'll know when the time is right."

Fushi stared at the disc in his hand, his mind a storm of confusion and fear. What is this? Why would he need a beacon? The weight of the disc felt heavier than it should, as though it carried with it an unseen burden.

Before Fushi could ask anything more, the man's hand shot out with terrifying speed, gripping his wrist like a vice. Fushi gasped, a searing cold spreading from the man's touch, biting into his skin. His body trembled, the pain overwhelming, as frostbite began to form where the man's fingers dug into his flesh.

The truth hit Fushi like a punch to the gut. This man was a sorcerer.

Sorcerers were rare, almost mythical beings who had mastered the dangerous mutations that plagued the world. Where others had succumbed to madness or monstrous transformations, sorcerers had tamed their powers, turning them into deadly abilities.

"Hyuk!" Fushi choked on his words, reaching for his hand as he felt immense pain.

I thought that thing from earlier was a sorcerer… If that's not… Who… Then… Who is this?

He stumbled on his words, trying to look up before the man's grip tightened for a moment, his smile widening as Fushi's face twisted in pain. It wasn't just a warning—it was a promise. A reminder that he could kill Fushi in an instant if he chose to.

And just as suddenly as it began, the man released him, leaving Fushi reeling from the cold shock still radiating through his arm. Fushi's breath came in shallow gasps, his wrist throbbing painfully, but the man didn't seem concerned.

Instead, he simply stepped back, melting into the shadows once more, his voice lingering in the air like a curse. "Remember, boy. Activate it when he sleeps."

Fushi stood frozen, his mind reeling. The disc in his hand felt like a time bomb, ticking away in his pocket. He didn't understand what the sorcerer wanted, but he knew it was nothing good.

Before he could process everything, a voice shattered the tense silence.

"Fushi! There you are!"

Mika.

Relief flooded Fushi's chest, but it was quickly tempered by the dread of what had just transpired. He quickly shoved the disc into his pocket as Mika approached, his usual composed expression replaced with concern.

"Are you alright?" Mika asked, his eyes scanning Fushi for any sign of injury.

"I'm fine," Fushi lied, forcing a shaky smile. His wrist still ached, the cold bite of the sorcerer's touch lingering, but he couldn't let Mika know what had happened. "Let's… let's just get back to Souji."

Mika nodded, his concern not fully abated but willing to drop the matter for now. As they walked away, Fushi's mind raced, the weight of the disc in his pocket feeling like a noose tightening around his neck. He couldn't tell Mika or Souji about the sorcerer—not yet.

But one thing was clear: the sorcerer was after Souji, and Fushi had now been roped into whatever mess this sorcerer was going to create.